Why do old men think that they can do whatever they want? I mean, I see this on a regular basis. My father, though he's not like ancient, is approaching the relative term of "old" in age and is convinced he looks like a stallion and that it's practical for him to be walking around on roofs still, cleaning out gutters and what not. Ridiculous.
I see old men customers at work who think I.D. and verification of who they are simply because they're crazy ass old are not necessary. Being old and being male does not make you invincible. Or a rocket scientist.
James Patterson is one of these crazy old men. I don't know if he thinks he's the next Nicholas Sparks or what, but do not under any circumstance pick up a copy of his "Sunday's at Tiffany's" and think it will be any good, because it's not. It blows. I can only assume that he thought to himself "I need to get into the psyche of the female mind...a single, female living in New York...I know, I'll watch ONE EPISODE OF SEX AND THE CITY and that's all I need". He names drops things like Matthew Mcconaughey and Jimmy Choo and suddenly...what....he thinks hes encaptured a woman? His writing style is juvenile, mediocre at best....he tries to be hip by using lingo and starting off chapters like entries to a journal. It just annoys me. The man is making a fortune because he's good at writing murder mysteries...Kiss the Girls, 3rd Degree, whatever and suddenly he decides he wants to write cheesy poof tales and people eat them up. Why? They suck. Don't do it. My first ever book review and it was a rant like a lunatic. Super.
Speaking of Matthew Mcconaughey, he got boat loads of crazy eh? Pick up a copy of his interview put in thesuperficial.com....he talks about how the birth of his baby was like a tribal dance of some kind and they were 'jammin' and the only pictures i ever see of him these days are him running all over the beach like some surfer with no life and it's just bizarre. What happened to old matthew? To "How to lose a guy" matthew? Now he's just a nut with a kid. OH and to top it all off his brother is even crazier. His son's name is something retarded like Miller Lyte and the last picture i saw of him pictured a two year old with a giant red afro of hair. Special. The McConaughey's are nuts.
Alright, drunken zoo time. Plus Scott went and did the grocery shopping today, cleaned the apartment AND is making dinner. I'm lucky to have him and not a guy like the loser who lives across the street. Tonight, as we were coming inside we heard him yell, probably from his reclining chair in front of "The Price is Right", "You better not touch my Tv Dinner!".
Priceless.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
The anniversary of coffee and a threat
So one year ago today I cornered Scott at a National Coney Island. Over the scariest cup of coffee he's ever had in his life, after months of refusing to be committed to anyone in any sort of long term relationship, I gave him the "it's now or never buddy" and like a scared little man who didn't know what else to do but sip and nod...he agreed.
I asked him this morning if he could have imagined then where we'd be now and he said "I would have run screaming" which is ALWAYS a positive indication of your relationship. Dork.
Because I'm feeling mushy I'll just come out and say that he's my other half. He believes in me and things that I don't even believe I'm capable of. He's brilliant and adorable and I can't imagine being anywhere but here with him. However, I might just be feeling this way due to the enormous mound of pancakes he made this morning for breakfast but whatever. Love is love.
I got tickets for free cocktails on Friday at the zoo of all places. For some reason I was surprised just because I dont think the family center of a zoo is the optimal place to be handing our free cocktails. Three beers later people can be seen waving hotdogs at the bears in their cages or danging their children over the polar bear tanks and it just sounds like a poor idea to me. However, I do think I'll be going mainly because I can't pass up the opportunity to drink AND impersonate the penguins at the same time and I feel with a beer in my hand, I'll get less crazy stares.
Later, if i don't get eaten by a hippopotamus. (Watch the discovery channel...those things mean business)
I asked him this morning if he could have imagined then where we'd be now and he said "I would have run screaming" which is ALWAYS a positive indication of your relationship. Dork.
Because I'm feeling mushy I'll just come out and say that he's my other half. He believes in me and things that I don't even believe I'm capable of. He's brilliant and adorable and I can't imagine being anywhere but here with him. However, I might just be feeling this way due to the enormous mound of pancakes he made this morning for breakfast but whatever. Love is love.
I got tickets for free cocktails on Friday at the zoo of all places. For some reason I was surprised just because I dont think the family center of a zoo is the optimal place to be handing our free cocktails. Three beers later people can be seen waving hotdogs at the bears in their cages or danging their children over the polar bear tanks and it just sounds like a poor idea to me. However, I do think I'll be going mainly because I can't pass up the opportunity to drink AND impersonate the penguins at the same time and I feel with a beer in my hand, I'll get less crazy stares.
Later, if i don't get eaten by a hippopotamus. (Watch the discovery channel...those things mean business)
Sunday, July 20, 2008
"My mind is 3 TIMES BETTER than a machine"
I have only one statement to sum up my day : Bitches be crazy.
I don't even understand how someone can come into a bank and cause a rucous like some of the nonsense I see on a daily basis. My entire life I've felt it unnecessary to even speak above a whisper at a bank because I just assumed you could be arrested and carried out for- -well, whatever they want to kick you out for. It's a bank. It's like a cathedral in Rome....it's sacred and quiet and they can escort whoever they want, whenever they want.
Except in Pittsburgh. Where captain crazy pants came in today and discovered her account was 368.00 in the hole. Upon discovery she went from person to person at the bank demanding refunds and her money back and blah blah blah only to be shot down repeatedly while a security guard walked behind her just WAITING for the signal to shoot her.
So she finally comes up to the desk and withdrawls like...i dunno, less than 200.00 from her savings account because she has declared she's taking "ALL HER MONEY FROM THIS BANK...THEY CAN MAKE A FOOL OUT OF SOMEONE ELSE". I don't think it's necessary to point out who's being a fool at this point, but whatever. The entire time she's being waited on she's ranting and raving, lunatic style, about how her mind is a steel trap of information. She KNOWS she didn't do this to her account. She has a mind that works three times better than any machine and computer can. We're a bunch of idiots compared to this rocket scientist. She then proceeds to put in the wrong password to her debit card TWICE, gets her cash and finally leaves. Awesome.
I'm checking monster.com as we speak. Not because I hate my job so much I feel I should leave. Mainly because she's not the scariest individual I've had in that building in the two weeks I've been there and know before the month is out that building will be burned to the ground by some crazy who's fighting us over a 36.00 overdraft charge.
Made sloppy joes for dinner and am SUPER excited for Big Bang Theory tonight. Something about nerds that just gets me all excited. Explains my choice in boyfriend :).
I don't even understand how someone can come into a bank and cause a rucous like some of the nonsense I see on a daily basis. My entire life I've felt it unnecessary to even speak above a whisper at a bank because I just assumed you could be arrested and carried out for- -well, whatever they want to kick you out for. It's a bank. It's like a cathedral in Rome....it's sacred and quiet and they can escort whoever they want, whenever they want.
Except in Pittsburgh. Where captain crazy pants came in today and discovered her account was 368.00 in the hole. Upon discovery she went from person to person at the bank demanding refunds and her money back and blah blah blah only to be shot down repeatedly while a security guard walked behind her just WAITING for the signal to shoot her.
So she finally comes up to the desk and withdrawls like...i dunno, less than 200.00 from her savings account because she has declared she's taking "ALL HER MONEY FROM THIS BANK...THEY CAN MAKE A FOOL OUT OF SOMEONE ELSE". I don't think it's necessary to point out who's being a fool at this point, but whatever. The entire time she's being waited on she's ranting and raving, lunatic style, about how her mind is a steel trap of information. She KNOWS she didn't do this to her account. She has a mind that works three times better than any machine and computer can. We're a bunch of idiots compared to this rocket scientist. She then proceeds to put in the wrong password to her debit card TWICE, gets her cash and finally leaves. Awesome.
I'm checking monster.com as we speak. Not because I hate my job so much I feel I should leave. Mainly because she's not the scariest individual I've had in that building in the two weeks I've been there and know before the month is out that building will be burned to the ground by some crazy who's fighting us over a 36.00 overdraft charge.
Made sloppy joes for dinner and am SUPER excited for Big Bang Theory tonight. Something about nerds that just gets me all excited. Explains my choice in boyfriend :).
Week 2
I know....I think I was supposed to start with week 1. However, week 1 was difficult enough without having to talk about how difficult it was. But scott and i are here. We're alive, we're melting from this awful heat, but we're ok. I feel like I have too many to get ahold of individually but just not enough time to do so. Ok, so maybe I have the time but not the energy.
July 4th weekend (definitely not my first choice when deciding to haul everything I own across three states) we packed up and followed a tsunami into Pittsburgh where my mom and dad, his mom and sister walked everything we own up a flight of stairs in the rain starting at 4:30 in the morning. Needless to say it was chaotic and full of yelling and arguing and wet and muddy and a long freakin weekend.
It's nice now though. The apartment is way more than I anticipated it would be. Everything is clean and matches which doesn't usually happen when you've got a hodge podge of your grandmother's basement items and a friend from your mom's work giving you used crock pots and discolored couches to live off of. (The couch has a 'lovin stain'. I don't ask and just avoid that particular cushion. Beggars can't be choosers.)
My new job is great, everyone is friendly and the only bad thing about it is that it's less than two miles away but takes fifteen minutes by car because of traffic. Why dont you walk, you say? Because while my neighborhood is friendly and full of old, italian women and little dirty children, my neighborhood I work in is like Bums Isle. Apparently no one in the city of Pittsburgh has to get a real job when they can just loiter outside a Steel City Rib joint all day begging for spare change and screaming at drivers they're almost causing fatal accidents with. So, I choose to drive. Sure, I might hit one of them, but if i have another run in with crazy rhonda who likes to sit outside the local Midas, i might not make it another day in this town. City living is a lot different from suburbs.
We also had a slight problem with our mail man in that he's a idiot with no teeth. It all started when we started getting nasty notes on letters from the girls I used to sit for or housewarming cards from our mother's.... "Put your name on your mailbox!" Big, ugly, 'I barely passed second grade' handwriting. Now, it's not so much that the note was rude, or that it was written all over pieces of mail that I would like to cherish and keep in a scrapbook like the big dumb girl I am. My main problem was that the mailbox isn't ours to just go out and start writing on with a sharpee or putting stickers on. So what does this moron do? He stops coming to the house all together. Netflix were going unattended. We received no bills, no letters, nothing for three days. It was absurd. So absurd that I had to waste a saturday going down to the post office and speaking with a slow supervisor, who had me come back at quitting time to confront our mail man in person. Turns out...you HAVE to put your name on your mailbox. How it is that I went 23 years WITHOUT my name on my mailbox makes no sense. OH and here's another treat...picking up your mail is a COURTESY. How is that even possible? How is that for years my parents have been putting up the little red flag on our box and the mail has been picked up, that i've been putting it in every drop box or mail holder or whatever the entire time i've lived on my own and never ONCE had a crazy, toothless mail man tell me that he doesn't even have to pick up my mail? What's the point of having a box? If you have to go to the post office to send your mail, why not just get one of those post office boxes that's labeled with a number so all the randoms don't know who lives in every house on the block because it's written in bright lettering on your mailbox outside?
The mail system confuses me. I hate that that skinny, no toothed, vengeful loser of a mailman gets paid 21.00/hr (according to the Pittsburgh want ads for the usps) by writing on strangers mail and skipping whatever house he feels like when it comes to picking up the mail. It's appalling. I'm going to start cherry bombing random post boxes shawn hunter style as an act of defiance. I'll get kicked out of pittsburgh quicker than it took me to move in.
Speaking of, we still don't have all our boxes un packed. We have a box of mirrors that are supposed to go up as decoration somewhere from my mom but scott suddenly decided that mirrors "freak him out". I didn't even know how to respond to that. So they sit in the dining room next to our unopened dart board and fooseball table. No mirrors, no darts. I should try to be more understanding though. There are currently two pictures of babies in teacups in the bathroom that I know he's not too pleased about. Well whatever, i let him put up a giant poster of Bob Marley looking all strung out in the dining room which is not exactly "company worthy' if you catch my drift.
Alright, time to catch some sleep. I don't know how people do this 'full time job' nonsense. Getting up every day at the same time and working the whole day? It's crap. I need to find a new career. Preferably one that requires sleeping in, making cupcakes and playing with puppies all day long. I'll check the want ads tomorrow.
July 4th weekend (definitely not my first choice when deciding to haul everything I own across three states) we packed up and followed a tsunami into Pittsburgh where my mom and dad, his mom and sister walked everything we own up a flight of stairs in the rain starting at 4:30 in the morning. Needless to say it was chaotic and full of yelling and arguing and wet and muddy and a long freakin weekend.
It's nice now though. The apartment is way more than I anticipated it would be. Everything is clean and matches which doesn't usually happen when you've got a hodge podge of your grandmother's basement items and a friend from your mom's work giving you used crock pots and discolored couches to live off of. (The couch has a 'lovin stain'. I don't ask and just avoid that particular cushion. Beggars can't be choosers.)
My new job is great, everyone is friendly and the only bad thing about it is that it's less than two miles away but takes fifteen minutes by car because of traffic. Why dont you walk, you say? Because while my neighborhood is friendly and full of old, italian women and little dirty children, my neighborhood I work in is like Bums Isle. Apparently no one in the city of Pittsburgh has to get a real job when they can just loiter outside a Steel City Rib joint all day begging for spare change and screaming at drivers they're almost causing fatal accidents with. So, I choose to drive. Sure, I might hit one of them, but if i have another run in with crazy rhonda who likes to sit outside the local Midas, i might not make it another day in this town. City living is a lot different from suburbs.
We also had a slight problem with our mail man in that he's a idiot with no teeth. It all started when we started getting nasty notes on letters from the girls I used to sit for or housewarming cards from our mother's.... "Put your name on your mailbox!" Big, ugly, 'I barely passed second grade' handwriting. Now, it's not so much that the note was rude, or that it was written all over pieces of mail that I would like to cherish and keep in a scrapbook like the big dumb girl I am. My main problem was that the mailbox isn't ours to just go out and start writing on with a sharpee or putting stickers on. So what does this moron do? He stops coming to the house all together. Netflix were going unattended. We received no bills, no letters, nothing for three days. It was absurd. So absurd that I had to waste a saturday going down to the post office and speaking with a slow supervisor, who had me come back at quitting time to confront our mail man in person. Turns out...you HAVE to put your name on your mailbox. How it is that I went 23 years WITHOUT my name on my mailbox makes no sense. OH and here's another treat...picking up your mail is a COURTESY. How is that even possible? How is that for years my parents have been putting up the little red flag on our box and the mail has been picked up, that i've been putting it in every drop box or mail holder or whatever the entire time i've lived on my own and never ONCE had a crazy, toothless mail man tell me that he doesn't even have to pick up my mail? What's the point of having a box? If you have to go to the post office to send your mail, why not just get one of those post office boxes that's labeled with a number so all the randoms don't know who lives in every house on the block because it's written in bright lettering on your mailbox outside?
The mail system confuses me. I hate that that skinny, no toothed, vengeful loser of a mailman gets paid 21.00/hr (according to the Pittsburgh want ads for the usps) by writing on strangers mail and skipping whatever house he feels like when it comes to picking up the mail. It's appalling. I'm going to start cherry bombing random post boxes shawn hunter style as an act of defiance. I'll get kicked out of pittsburgh quicker than it took me to move in.
Speaking of, we still don't have all our boxes un packed. We have a box of mirrors that are supposed to go up as decoration somewhere from my mom but scott suddenly decided that mirrors "freak him out". I didn't even know how to respond to that. So they sit in the dining room next to our unopened dart board and fooseball table. No mirrors, no darts. I should try to be more understanding though. There are currently two pictures of babies in teacups in the bathroom that I know he's not too pleased about. Well whatever, i let him put up a giant poster of Bob Marley looking all strung out in the dining room which is not exactly "company worthy' if you catch my drift.
Alright, time to catch some sleep. I don't know how people do this 'full time job' nonsense. Getting up every day at the same time and working the whole day? It's crap. I need to find a new career. Preferably one that requires sleeping in, making cupcakes and playing with puppies all day long. I'll check the want ads tomorrow.